


The Tattered

by Arvalee Knight (AvaWhiteRaven)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fantasy, High Fantasy, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 11:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16639610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaWhiteRaven/pseuds/Arvalee%20Knight
Summary: The Dev believe themselves gods, destined rulers of a glorious empire. She grew up in the dark shadow of their empire, but as fate would have it, she must must now rise to join their power hungry world. Her survivability depends upon it. But can she truly live among the enemy? Or will she become as ravenous as they are?





	The Tattered

Magic had a rancid scent, sour and rusty to the tongue. She could taste it in the back of her throat as it coated each ragged breath. She pressed her spine firmly into the jagged wall of the quarry. Another crack of thunder resonated across the sky. Stone and dust thickened the air and somewhere in the quarry a high pitched scream echoed.

She rolled her eyes up towards the dimming sun, the harsh light of day barely making it past the thickening brown storm. She supposed one good thing to come out of the battle had to be the clouds. At least now, the desert heat wasn’t as searing.

But the smell of magic was almost volatile. Her mouth watered and her throat tightened. Hot bile jolted up her throat and before she could stop it, she was lurching sideways and coughing up what little food she had left in her stomach. If she could even consider it food. She heaved out a breath then gasped sharply, the disgusting taste of magic filling her mouth.

A tug against her sleeve drew her attention. She swept her gaze over to the wide-eyed boy cowering beside her. She glanced back out across the stone quarry but she couldn’t see anything past the smoke. Everything was an indiscernible smear.

She roughly wiped the back of her hand across her lips, the words harshly rasped, “We should keep moving.”

He quickly shook his head, desperation crumpling his expression. “I’m tired.”

She gave him a hard stare, the old scars and the few small cuts along his brow. He’d had a rough life in the few years of being alive.

He whispered now, almost ashamed to ask, “Can’t we stay here?”

“No.” She leaned back into the stone wall and tried to slow her breathing but she couldn’t shake the uneasiness swimming around in her stomach. Something about magic always unnerved her. It left her feeling nauseated and anxious. Not that being on the run helped much. Ever since the riot broke out, they hadn’t had a moments rest. “We have to keep moving or we’ll end up dead like everyone else.”

“But… we didn’t do anything. If we tell them that and turn ourselves in—”

“Doesn’t matter.” She swallowed the acid burning the back of her mouth. “They won’t see it that way. We keep out of their way until the revolts over with.” She swept the heat of her gaze down at him, brows pinched so he knew she was serious. “Got it?”

He was slow to nod in agreement, his hesitancy making her even more bitter. But thunder shook the earth somewhere close by, a lot closer than earlier.

She snapped hold of his hand and lurched to her feet. “We have to move.” She dragged him forward, hauling his staggering weight across the dry desert landscape. If they were caught, they were dead.

Their shoes slammed against the dry earth. She searched quickly past the vermillion landforms, the smog slowly drifting around them in the staleness of the desert air. The further they raced, the less she could sense the magic bristling around them. Her skin didn’t feel as clammy as it did before. But she couldn’t slow down, not when her eyes caught sight of one of the bunkers up ahead.

She tightened her grip on the boy’s hand every time he stumbled to keep up with her quickening pace. He leapt forward a few times then finally fell forward but she wasn’t stopping. She jerked him back onto his feet. They didn’t have time to waste as another crack of thunder shattered the stone plateau far in the distance behind them.

She pushed open the door to the bunker, quickly taking in the cowering souls inside. They too were trying to escape the onslaught. But then her eyes caught sight of his familiar features, one of the men who had planned the attack.

She let go of the boy’s hand and marched forward, the muscles in her shoulders stiffening. She snapped hold of his shirt, her teeth clenched as she considered her next move. “This is your fault! You started this revolt and now the rest of us are having to pay for it.” She jerked him around, the anger swelling inside of her chest.

His eyes remained averted and he hadn’t bothered to say anything. He didn’t look apologetic in the least.

She growled and shoved him backwards, his legs staggering out from under him until he fell into the floor. “If you had just kept your head down and your mouth shut, we could have continued living in safety.”

“Living? This isn’t living…” He finally rolled his head up at her, lips parting as he huffed in exasperation. “This is oppression.”

“And what? Running for our survival is somehow better?” She stepped forward and shoved her shoe down into his chest, forcing all of her weight onto his ribs. “People are dying now because of you.”

“Only because those of us who fight are in low number! If more of you would rise, we could take them down.”

Her nose wrinkled and her lips quivered in a bitter smile. “You moron.” She glanced around at the small crowd, their expressions darkening. “You think these people stand a chance against the power outside? The Dev will always be stronger than us.”

“I’d rather die fighting for my freedom than die another day in captivity.” His eyes narrowed, brows pinching in his confidence, “I’d fight a lot harder if it meant being free.”

“Free…” She let a breath slip past her lips, eyes rolling away as she shook her head. Before she could argue, before she could consider their options, the cold slimy touch of magic rolled across her spine. Her throat tightened and her mouth soured.

She jolted back to the boy’s side and snapped hold of his arm. She raced to the far side of the room and threw open one of the wooden shutters. “We have to leave.” She grabbed him by the waist and raised him up until he was sitting on the ledge. “Hurry.”

He scurried out the window and awkwardly fell to the dusty ground below. She followed right behind him, crawling out the window and landing on her feet. He was looking down at his scuffed hands then peering up at her for comfort but she didn’t have the capacity. Comforting wasn’t something she had learned to do.

She snatched his hand and rushed away from the confines of the bunker. She should have warned the others but she convinced herself there was no time. She couldn’t risk another second there. Not while the Dev were hunting them down like animals.

The ground beneath their feet jolted, making their next steps staggered and drunken. The boy fell to his knees, a cry of pain jilting from his throat. She just barely glanced over her shoulder as the bunker’s silhouette brightened in an explosion of violet hues. She jerked the boy back to his feet and hurried down the jagged hillside.

Her fear was strangling her now. She couldn’t see past the thickening smog and the sun was starting to set. Soon it would be too dark to see. She caught sight of one of the quarry doors, a tunnel leading into one of the many mines.

She threw open the door in reckless desperation. She saw the glint of armor too late. The air snapped tight, a bolt of blue light firing across the small space so quickly she didn’t see where it landed at first. She could only think about the magic swarming inside of the dark entrance.

His weight dropped, her attention sweeping down at his small hand still tight in her grasp. She couldn’t let go even after the strength of his fingers disappeared. She squeezed his hand tighter as if it would somehow get a response from him.

She turned her attention back to the armored guard just as the blue spark of energy shot from his gauntlet. It speared into her flesh, jerking her body sideways, her legs stumbling under her weight. She tightened her grasp around the boy’s hand, refusing to let go, refusing to admit that this was somehow the end.

It wasn’t fair… They had tried their damndest to stay clear of the battle. They wanted nothing to do with the revolt. She had tried so damn hard to keep the boy alive and it was all for nothing. In the end, it still didn’t matter to the Dev who was innocent and who was not.

Her jaw tightened, anger thickening in the back of her throat. She felt a growl roll past her clenched teeth and before she processed what was happening, she was running forward. She snagged one of the shovels from the ground and swung it around until metal clattered into metal. He staggered a few steps but she hadn’t done much damage.

She felt the heat of magic rooting itself into her wound, the thickness of blood pooling along her skin but she couldn’t stop just yet. She grabbed hold of his helmet, the carved features of a canine that had once brought fear to her racing heart. She had no room left for fear. Not anymore.

His gauntlet grasped around her throat right before she wrenched the helmet from his skull. Once the armor was gone, she threw the bone of her knuckles into the bone of his cheek. But he barely even flinched. His grip on her throat tightened. He threw her off as easily as he would throw a small child.

She just barely landed on her feet. The blood pooling on her tongue reminded her to be desperate. But the Dev raised his weapon again. The next bolt of magic sent her flying backwards into the hard wall, her spine sliding painfully down the stone. The last of her breath flew from her lungs, leaving her frozen and wide-eyed.

This couldn’t be it, she reasoned. Heat burned behind her eyes as she stared at the darkness of the tunnel. Even after fighting so hard to stay alive, she too was going to die. She peered over at the boy’s lifeless body, remembering how badly she wanted to keep him safe. He had been innocent, too young to die for such a senseless reason.

She swallowed the blood that coated her mouth, the stark taste of magic making her throat convulse in disgust. She could see the knight move closer, his shadow a vague outline until he stood looming over her.

His eyes narrowed, lips tugging down into a hard frown. She thought he would finish the job but he turned and walked back to where his helmet laid dusty on the earth. He snagged it from the ground and slid it back over his features. When he returned he leaned closer to her, his words distorted and metallic, “Devian ailin, neresah.”

She sucked down a shuddering breath, fingers clawing at the dirt as the magic burned hotter across her chest. She glanced down in fear at the bleeding wounds. They were pulsing with violet hues, magic glowing brightly beneath her skin as it grew like a wild beast.

His tone was dark with bitter resentment, “You are Dev… sister.” His gauntlet snatched the front of her shirt before dragging her languid figure across the desert sand and rocks. He pulled her towards the exit, her eyes taking one final look at the boy before being hauled out into the darkened smog. Rocks and jagged stones rolled sharply beneath her lower back the further he hauled her down the faded pathways.

She tried to reach up at the metal gauntlet but her arms were weak and her vision was spiraling. When she finally felt the smooth stone platform slide easily under her languid form, she knew they were just outside of the Devian headquarters. The lights posted throughout the massive compound were as bright and intense as the noon sun.

His hold around her shirt vanished, dropping her weight hard into the ground. Air jolted from her chest, the pain strangling her. She could hear their voice but the sound was muffled. Her eyes rolled about until she caught sight of the Devs as they spoke. Her gaze darkened, chasing away the lights of the compound. The sounds around her deafened as her mind went unconscious.

 

~:~

 

She opened her eyes but they were swollen and hot, her vision bleary under the intense lights. A heaviness pressed against her. There was an unmistakable ache burrowed in her bones and joints. A sudden spark of fear jolted as she rushed to sit upwards and take in the white tiled room.

The coldness struck sharply, every inch of her flesh exposed except for the bandages along her torso. She remembered how deep her wounds had been, the magic pulsing inside of her like a writhing beast.

She curled her fingers around the white blanket, the soft fabric and the cushioning feeling beneath her touch. She’d never felt anything quite so… malleable. Her world had only been sand, stone, and metal. Nothing like this.

The door to the room swung open, her head turning sharply to take in the guard’s appearance. Beside him was a robed figure, his smile thin but growing.

“You’re awake, I see.” He stepped forward but his attention was elsewhere. He looked at the pulsing lights along the wall, the array of information posted there in the Devian language. “And healing rather quickly…”

Her throat tightened around the lump of fear that was choking her. She looked at the guard near the entrance and then to the doctor.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

She didn’t move. Even the breath in her lungs stilled and her expression remained stagnant. She couldn’t begin to fathom the reasoning behind the Dev’s actions. They were a cold and calculating race of people.

He pressed his lips thin when she made no reply. He nodded his head then glanced back at the guard as he considered his words. “You are Devian. Whatever happened outside in the work camps will be pardoned.”

“Pardoned,” she blurted, the word bitter to her tongue. “A boy… a little boy no older than nine was murdered and you think—”

The doctor raised his hand in dismissal. He then tucked them behind his back and moved towards the door. “A set of clothes are on the table. You’re healed enough for travel.” He stepped out of the room, even his own muscles flinching away from the guard’s presence.

She eyed the helmet, the same canine as the guard who had brought her there. She couldn’t be certain if they were the same but he eyed her as well before closing the door. She finally swept her attention over to the clothes folded neatly on the small table.

Devian… She peered down at the bandages, remembering the strange magic that had been moving beneath her own skin. Her mouth began to sour and a cold sweat layered her skin. She scurried to kick the blankets aside as she leaned over the side of the bed towards a small trash can. Her next breath was sucked in through her teeth.

No, she couldn’t be a Dev. She had spent her whole life as a slave. As a child she had been nothing more than a street rat living in sewers. But she remembered the magic and the open wounds, the amount of blood that had poured out of her.

She took a few more breaths until she felt the shaking subside. She rose to her feet and shuffled uncertainly towards the clothes. Hanging on the wall above them was poster, the familiar insignia of The Hooded Crow plastered in the middle. It was the same symbol carved into the guard’s armor and along every building. It was almost religious the way the Dev worshipped their emperor.

Her fingertips cautiously slid across the fabric taking in the pristine cloth. It wasn’t until she unfolded the shirt that she realized what it was. They had given her a military uniform, attire fit for a guard. Her teeth clenched. She had no desire to don the same outfit as her oppressor but she couldn’t remain naked forever.

She shimmied into the shirt before focusing on her pants. They were tighter fitting that her old clothes. If they could even be called clothes. Rags, mostly. They had been baked by the sun and weathered by sweat and sand.

She looked down, fingers tugging at the soft material of her new clothes. Could she really be a Dev and take comfort in the new things given to her? While the rest of the slaves scurried for their lives outside the compound, she was safely comfortable. It seemed almost cruel to enjoy herself and yet… didn’t she deserve to be safe?

She snatched the utility belt from the table and secured it around her waist. She slid her feet into the fine-fitting boots, noting how thick and rugged they were. She was just beginning to tie the laces when the door opened again. Her eyes rolled up, her movements frozen as the guard stepped back into the room.

“Finished?”

She raised a brow then returned her attention to tying her laces. Once she finished, she stood tall. Her gaze easily returned to his helmet and the snarling teeth molded into the metal. She knew very little about the Dev and their clans but she understood each Dev somehow identified with an animal.

He nudged his chin to the table where the last of her clothes waited. “Grab your jacket and follow me.” He turned sharply and marched out the door.

She grabbed the heavy cloak and cautiously sauntered forward. Outside the hallway was brightly lit but empty of all people. It was quiet. Almost eerie. Her voice was too loud even at a whisper as she spoke, “Do you even regret killing that boy?”

He scoffed which tightened her hands into fists. “You become a Dev and suddenly you think you can talk so confidently to me. Keep in mind I’m armed, little girl.”

“That boy only lived a portion of the years you’ve been alive. And he lived all those years as a cowering slave.”

He stopped sharply and raised his head. He kept his back to her though. “Don’t blame me for his death. You should blame those rebels who thought starting a revolt was a good idea.”

She did blame them. But she blamed the Dev for the tight collar around their necks, forcing the revolt to happen eventually. “How easy it must be to forget murdering someone.”

He turned around, the metal of his armor ever so slightly creaking. He looked over her, a tall and menacing statue. “Do not assume that I don’t remember. I know clearly what that boy looked like when he died. I worked that same quarry long ago before I was given this post.”

Her eyes slightly narrowed. She kept her gaze steady on the glossy surface of his helmet’s eyes. When he finally turned around, she let the breath bottled in her lungs quietly slip free. He marched further down the hallway and she quietly followed behind him.

Had he truly been a slave? Did she want to believe him? Because if he were telling the truth then surely that meant she too was a Dev.

They walked through the maze of a building until reaching a guarded door. The guard posted outside opened the door before turning his attention to her. Even the guard who had been leading her, turned sharply towards her.

She raised her head slightly in anticipation.

“You’ll be processed here before taking a training course at one of the nearby bases.” He nudged his head towards the dimly lit room. “Do you understand what will happen?”

“Training course? Base?”

“You’re a Dev. All Dev who posses magic, by law, are required to enlist in the military.” Something about his change in tone told her he was smiling, “Congratulations.” He stepped around her and marched back the way they had come.

She watched him one last time before turning her attention back to the empty room. She shuffled forward, vision sweeping up at the spiraled glass along the ceiling. The Dev were always proud of their technology, their intelligence. It was the envy of the world from what she understood. The reason behind every war ever fought.

She turned sharply around just as someone was stepping through the doorway. He wasn’t draped in armor like the guards were but he didn’t look like the doctor either. He gave her a short glance before walking over to the table and chairs. He sat down in the furthest chair then opened up the folder he had brought with him. He looked at the papers before looking up at her and then the chair across from him.

She raised a brow, her voice almost catching itself, “Should I… sit down?”

“Your choice.” He shifted through the papers, reading each one carefully, “You’ve been successfully processed into the system…”

She shuffled closer, listening to the familiar sound of his accent, the common droll of a fellow slave. The second former slave she had met in one day. At least, that she knew of. She sat down stiffly on the edge of the chair in anticipation.

“Do you recall your place of birth?” He turned another page and when she didn’t respond, he rolled his attention up at her. “Mother? Father?”

Her tone hardened, “Do you recall your place of birth?”

He leaned back in his chair and threw his weight to one side. “We’re on the same side now. This’ll go quicker if you give me direct answers.”

“No,” she stated. “I don’t remember…”

He stared at her for a moment. She hadn’t lied. She didn’t remember where she was born, not a name at least. She remembered bits and pieces of a city sewer, the muck and grime that had clung to her skin and threadbare clothes.

He bobbed his head then slid the folder shut. "That's probably for the best." He sat back in his chair and raised his chin. "You're Dev. Half of you anyway... Your parents were probably killed during the purge. Can’t say what clan you belong to. Not yet, anyway. The blood test hasn’t come back yet. You healed quicker than expected.”

“So what happens now?” She leaned forward and pressed her elbows into the table. “You found out I’m a Dev and suddenly I’m not a slave anymore?”

“That’s the law…” He raised a shoulder half-heartedly. “You’re lucky. With the way your magic appears, you’ll likely be drafted into a specialized team. Otherwise, you’ll be posted to some desert outpost like me…” He flourished his hand at the room in mocking jest.

She leaned back and wrapped her fingers around the edge of her chair. She squeezed hold of it, trying to feel the reality as she processed what he was saying. The room felt so cold. She tried her hardest not to tremble but her body wasn't cooperating. The jacket was thick and warm but for some reason, her fingers were ice and her bones felt brittle.

He leaned forward and lowered his voice, “Listen. The moment you leave this room, you’re not a slave anymore. You’re Dev. And it’s going to be hell out there. It’s martial law out there. The wrong word, the wrong choice, could be your last. Understood?”

She stared at his eyes but was hard to keep from looking down. “I don’t know anything about the Dev… How am I supposed to…”

“Get stronger. And smarter.”

Someone stepped into the room, the boots clattering across the floor. He handed over another folder then whispered into his ear. His expression hardened before peering over at the man beside him. His voice was low and cold, “Have everything erased… Immediately.”

“Yes, commander.” He bowed lowly then hurried out of the room.

He waited for the door to slam shut before looking at her. She could see it in his attire and the expression he wore. He had definitely been in command of the compound for a while. Perhaps, he had even been a commander during one of the major wars along the border.

“Coyote clan.” He opened the folder and slid it across the table.

“Coyote…” She couldn’t make out a single word that was written across the paper. She didn’t speak Devian and she wasn’t even sure her own language had a written alphabet. “Should that mean something to me?”

“You’re probably one of the few remaining.” He slid a box across the table then opened it up to show her the carved stone and red wax inside. “This is your clan’s seal. All you need now is a name and to stamp the paper in front of you.”

Her eyes widened, heat burning behind them. “I don’t have a name… I don’t… even… know a name to give myself.”

He leaned forward and tapped his fingers onto the top of the paper in front of her. “Press the seal into the red wax and then onto the paper. I’ll handle the rest.”

“What happens if I don’t sign?”

The corner of his mouth twitched in irritation. But then he released a shocked laugh, head tilted back as he tried to speak calmly, “I have to kill you. Haven’t you been listening? It’s the law and you don’t have much choice.”

Her lips parted as she picked up the small obelisk. “So, I’m still a slave then.”

“Everyone serves someone in this life. At least now, you have a lot more power than you did before.”

She watched him nudge his head towards the wax, encouraging her to keep going. She tightened her grasp around the stone warming in her hand. With awkward movements she pressed the stone into the red paste and then into the paper. Before she could even remove the stamp, he was sliding the paper back to his side of the table and taking a pen to it.

“Rashkah-nahata,” he said absentmindedly. “The Tattered Coyote. Welcome to the empire, Nahata.” He tossed the pen down then casually placed the paper back in front of her. “You’ve been officially inducted into the crusades. You’ll be leaving this compound to a training facility southeast of here. Take your credentials and follow the guard outside. He’ll escort you.”

She stared at the paper and the countless symbols scattered across its surface. She rolled her eyes up at the guard, the words muttered under her breath, “You were a slave once… How can you serve them?”

The corner of his mouth curled and his eyes darkened as he lowered his head. “You served them as a slave. Now you get to choose where and when you serve them. Don’t overthink it. Not now. Focus on surviving. You can worry about the rest later.” He stood up and casually strolled over to the door.

She stood up and grabbed the paper from the desk. “I’m only half Devian…” She walked the short distance to the door and gave him a stern look. “I won’t be like them.”

He opened the door with a breathy laugh. “We all do things we aren’t proud of in the name of survival. Good luck… initiate.”

The guard outside looked her over then held out his hand. She raised the paper with uncertainty. She wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted. He snapped up the paper and read it. “Rashkah... A fitting name.” He held the paper out ot her. “Follow me.”

She glanced between the two of them before taking back her paper back in hand. “Then lead the way, I guess.” Before she could step further out the door, the commander placed a heavy hand onto her shoulder. She peered over at the hollow darkness in his eyes.

“If you don’t sharpen your claws… you’ll have nothing to defend yourself with. Remember that.” His hand fell away from her shoulder. He stepped past her then sauntered down the opposite direction.

A sickness wrapped itself around her stomach. She had spent her whole life knowing only how to survive as a slave. Whatever happened next was foreign territory.

She pulled her eyes from the commander and stepped towards the guard as he marched down the narrow hallway.

  
  
  
  



End file.
